


Split the Soul

by Scotie_chan



Category: The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde - Robert Louis Stevenson
Genre: Body Horror, Gen, Suicidal Thoughts, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 06:15:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14665019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scotie_chan/pseuds/Scotie_chan
Summary: In which an aging gentleman goes through far too much trouble to have sex and get high.





	Split the Soul

**Author's Note:**

> The following is a chapter from an adaptation I'm working on.  
> 

The square I lived in was an ugly part of town. The rose bushes in the garden were all thorns, and no one scrubbed the rust off the fence or trimmed the grass, the centuries old buildings surrounding were allowed to decay and  look their age, the paint allowed to chip and the ivy allowed to strangle. The house I called my own, however, stood out from the others with the brick kept red and the trim of the front door and windows kept white, not a single vine creeping up the facade. The little patch of land between the walkway and the building was decorated with purple hyacinth. 

 As I stepped through my front door, as Poole reached for my coat, I dismissed him and the rest of the servants for the night, then quickly made my way across the house and out into the garden. I then stepped across the court to the dissecting theater.

I made my way inside, locking the door behind me, then made my way back to my study and locked myself up in there as well. I lit a fire in the fireplace and in the lamps, then when I was done with all that I stepped over to my work area.

I quickly got together what all that was needed from my chemical and glassware cabinets, then sat down at my work table and and quickly got to work on my elixir. It was done in a moment. Soon I was holding a glass off the mixture up to the lamp, watching the liquid bubble the light, the memory of mixing it up a blur. 

Something occurred to me then. A rather troubling thought.

I put the glass down, then stood up, then stepped over to my writing desk and took out a pen and some paper. On these papers with this pen I wrote down everything that would need to be known should this next experiment prove to be my final one, an explanation of what I had been attempting to do, a plea that my research be continued by someone after my death, and a few kind letters to those who would miss me. Oh, and one strongly worded letter to Howards asking him to please trip and fall and hit his head on the corner of a table and crack open his skull.

I tore that one up and tossed the pieces into the fire place.

Then I made my way back over to my work table, took off my jacket and hung it over the back of my work chair, then sat down, and picked up the glass.

I took out my syringe and filled it, then put down the glass and rolled up my sleeve. When the crook of my arm was revealed, I stuck the needle to it and plunged it into my vien.

The elixir warmed me as it entered my bloodstream. This heat quickly spread out up and down my arm, then throughout the rest of my body.

When the syringe was empty I pulled out the needle and put the thing down, then I picked up my pen again to write down the time and a note on the warmth in my journal. When I was done I sat back in my chair and waited.

For a long moment there was nothing unusual, I stayed as I was before the prick, an ageing gentleman going through far too much trouble to make himself smile.

I looked about my study, to my cabinet of chemicals and to my sink, and to my armchair and writing desk and bookshelves at the other side of the room, I looked up to the windows high up on the wall facing the street, and as I stared out them into the night I thought to myself, ‘ _I’ll likely be dying tonight._ _Will it be in a figurative sense or a literal one? I suppose either way will be perfectly acceptable._ ’

I chuckled at this.

It was quite dark outside those windows, nightfall and an incoming rain storm, along with the smog deciding to thicken. Drops of rain fell upon the dirty glass, making little  _ plinks  _ upon impact.

A cloudiness appeared in my head as I watched the rain hit the glass, I found myself rather dizzy and a little slow to think. I began to grow tired, my eyelids heavy.

I held up my hand to my mouth and yawned, then picked up my pen and wrote down a note about my sudden tiredness. My handwriting was a little sloppier than usual I noticed as I wrote, the ink smudged and my letters tilted in odd directions.

I put down my pen, then folded my arms atop the table and rested my head upon them.

I became aware of an ache coming over me then. It started in the pit of my stomach and spread out across me evenly to my toes and my skull. It was a small and dull ache, something I wouldn’t have given much more than a passing thought to had it not come over after injecting a new chemical mixture. 

‘ _ This should pass in a minute. _ ’ I told myself, thinking back to the mice.

I raised my head and picked my pen back up, then began to write of the pain. I only got a few letters down, however, before something happened that caused me to snap my pen between my fingers, ink going everywhere.

The most racking pangs came over me suddenly, an agony that made my flesh and bones scream, in my chest and my head my heart began to pound as if trying to beat its way out of me. Even my spirit found itself in a strange and overwhelming agony, something I cannot hope to begin to attempt to describe.

I screamed at the top of my lungs, then wrapped my arms around myself and buckled over. I shut my eyes and began to sob.

‘ _ Oh my God! _ ’ I thought, ‘ _ Oh my God, what is this?! _ ’

The pounding in my head grew louder as I tried to think.

I reached up my hands and put them to the sides of my head, as if that would somehow stop the horror. As I ran my fingers through my hair it came out in clumps. Softer, straighter strands grew out to replace my curls meer moments after they fell.

I attempted to scream again, but I found that my lungs lacked the air required to do so. I could only sit there and sob quietly.

‘ _ Is this death?! _ ’ I wondered.

The notion suddenly wasn’t so appealing as it had been. The fear was so consuming that it caused me to begin trembling.

Then that pain stopped.

It disappeared as if it had never been.

In its place it left something, something indescribably new, and, from its novelty, delightfully sweet. I felt younger, livelier, some sort of youthful drive I had never turley known was coursing through my veins like water through a millrace. 

I opened my eyes, but I found I couldn’t see. The world had blurred into a mess of colors behind my glasses.

I raised my head, and without any sayso on my part my body suddenly jumped from my chair and stumbled backwards.

“What the fuck?!” my mouth called out.

It was not my voice that spoke. The voice that escaped my lips was deeper than mine, and uglier too. It was not a voice made for speech. The sound caused me to shudder.

‘ _ Dear God, _ ’ I thought, ‘ _ what is this?! What is happening?! What did I do to myself?! _ ’

“What the fuck is my voice?” my mouth asked, “And why  the fuck can’t I see?”

My arms and my hands reached up and took off my glasses.

The world became clear again once they were removed, then my head started to turn and look about.

I became aware then of the fact I had lost in stature. The tables, the chairs and the cabinets were taller, the ceiling was farther away from the top of my head, my clothes I noticed were also a few sizes too large now, they dangled off my body, revealing my suddenly small shoulders. My trousers were barely held up by my braces, the ends of the legs crumpled up on the floor around my feet. 

My mouth frowned and my eyebrow raised, then my eyes looked down to my arms which held themselves out. The limbs and the fingers and the palms had shrunk, they were small and scrawny now, and a stark growth of dark hair extruded out to the backs of my hands from my arms, something I never would have allowed.

My face lost it’s expression.

“Just like the mice.” my mouth whispered.

It hit me then, the answer to those questions I had asked earlier.

‘ _ Oh my God. _ ’ I thought.

“Sir?” I asked.

My eyes went even wider.

A hand reached up to cover my mouth.

“What the fuck?!” my mouth whispered.

‘ _ Alright, _ ’ I thought, ‘ _ I’ve got it’s attention. Now what do I say? Probably best to be blunt about it… _ ’

I lowered our hand.

“Sir,” I said, “my name is Henry Jekyll, it appears you are my evil.”

My mouth frowned at this, and my brow scrunched up.

“What the fuck?” the new being asked, “I’m Henry Jek-”

The creature shut my mouth.

A smile crept on to my lips.

“Evil.” he whispered.

“Do you feel inclined to sin?” I asked.

The new being looked down, and I suppose thought for a moment, then when this moment ended it smiled wider.

“Well I did just say ‘fuck’ without going red in the face.” it said.

“I’d hardly call that evil.” I said, “Though I suppose the lack of inhibition that implies is promising.”

The being nodded.

Then it glanced off to the side, raised an eyebrow, and took on a different sort of smile.

“Say,” it said then, before stepping over to my table and putting my glasses down gently on the surface. “I suppose you’d want me to try and reverse the experiment? See if you’ve been left wholly good?”

“Oh,” I said, “yes, that’s the logical next step to take.”

“If we continue to go about this logically, that is. I don’t believe I’m as fond as science as I used to be. That is to say I’m not as interested in the subject as you are. Nowhere near as interested in the subject. I might need another reason to continue this experiment.”

I frowned.

“You’d do away with me?” I asked.

“Rather evil of me,” this new being said with a new grin, “isn’t it?”

I had so many regrets in that moment.

‘ _ Oh dear God, _ ’ I thought, before saying, “What if I promise to let you back out?”

“I’ll be out all the time if I never bring you out.” this new being said.

“Oh…um…oh! I know, how about I draw your attention to the fact you are penniless, friendless, and homeless? Would you rather sleep in my bed or on a street corner tonight?”

The new being raised an eyebrow at this, then looked down and I suppose thought for a moment, and then it nodded.

“That’s true, I suppose.” it said, “Alright, you win. I’ll let you out.”

I let out a sigh.

The new being frowned, then turned towards my work table.

Then it started to droop a little.

“I will let you out,” it said, “but not right now. I have a few things I would very much like to do, if you don’t mind. Not that I care if you mind, I’m going to do what I want either way.”

“What exactly are you planning to do?” I asked.

“Well first I’d very much like to see what I look like.”

“Oh, that’s actually a good idea. Um, if I recall correctly there should be a small mirror somewhere in my writing desk.”

The new being nodded, then turned around, and then took a step over to my work desk. Our ankle got caught in our trouser leg and we fell to the floor.

The new being went wide eyed, then stuck out our hands to catch yourself.

“Shit!” it called out as we fell.

Our hands and knees stung at we landed on the wooden floor.

“Note to self.” I said, “Take you to a tailor sometime.”

The new being nodded, then sat up. 

It adjusted our braces to as short as they would go, then rolled up our trousers and tucked them into our now flopping shoes around our heels. It stood up then, then made the rest of its way to my writing desk.

When it got to it it started opening up the top drawers and shuffling through them, and it eventually found the small mirror I had mentioned. It then stepped over into some good lighting, and held it up where it could see ourself.

The face that reflected in the glass was not my face. It wasn’t a minor change from my face either, the difference was drastic! For starters it was youthful, likely to die violently youthful, unlike mine which with kindness could be assumed to belong to a forty-five year old. It was also a rather ugly face, with a crooked nose and sunk in eyes, whereas I was rather plain and unremarkable in my appearance, and as for our hair, while mine was brown and short, the hair that draped around this face was long, wild and red. The only things that had remained as they had been were my eyes, which had for some reason stayed light green. There was no mistaking me for this reflection.

I didn’t like looking at that new face, though I can’t explain why. While it was definitely far from the most handsome of faces, there wasn’t really anything about it that would warrant the feeling of distress I was experiencing. I didn’t just want to look away, I wanted to destroy the loathly visage, hide it away under a thick coat of this monster’s blood. I didn’t know why.

The new being didn’t seem to share in this repulsion, however. It went wide eyed went wide and stared at the mirror unblinkingly for what felt like forever. 

“I am not Henry Jekyll.” it said after a while.

“Not at all.” I agreed.

“So who am I then?”

“Someone entirely new, I’d say. Why not give yourself a name?’

The new being grinned wide at this suggestion.

“Hyde.” it said, “My name is Hyde, Edward Hyde.”

“A fine name.” I said, “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mister Hyde.”

“I’d say the same, but I believe I’ve in a sense already met you.”

The fellow tossed the mirror onto the desk.

“Now then,” he said, “I’m thinking the next order of business ought to be going out and fucking myself senseless, seeing as that’s what we had in mind with this experiment.”

I chose not to respond to that.

Hyde raised an eyebrow at my silence.

“Henry?” he asked.

“I think we need to address something.” I said.

Hyde smiled at this.

“You’re the only one who finds it awkward, Henry.” he said, “I assure you.”

“The fact you don’t have privacy doesn’t bother you?” I asked, “The fact you’ll be…indulging…someone other than yourself doesn’t turn you off?”

Hyde shook our head.

“Not at all.” he said, “And as for other private matters I think we should just agree not to think about it.”

“Oh.” I said, “Um, alright then…don’t stay out too late?”

Hyde chuckled again.

He then went and got my jacket and slipped it on, then he scurried over to the door that lead to the theater. He opened it and stepped through, then quickly made his way over to the door that led to the street.

 I never used that door. He knocked loose a good number of spider webs when he opened it. He stepped through it and out into the ugly London night. He stopped then, and he looked up to the sky.

Drops of rain hit our face, splattering against our skin in impact. It was a sharp feeling, as if the water was made of little felting needles. It made Hyde close our eyes.

“I love this already.” he said.

“The rain?” I asked.

Hyde shook our head, then opened our eyes, and looked down.

“Being Edward Hyde.” he said, “Much more fun than being Henry Jekyll.”

I didn’t know how to feel about that comment.

“I ought to thank you for giving me this new identity, Henry.” Hyde went on.

“Showing gratitude wouldn’t be very evil of you.” I responded.

“Well then let this be my one and only good deed. Thank you, Dr. Henry Jekyll, thank you for making me.”

He shut the door then, then turned and hurried on his way down the street.

**Author's Note:**

> IDK when the entire thing will be done (I make Douglass Adams look early), and the final thing may end up slightly different than this. I'm posting this here and now because I'm excited.


End file.
